


Lunascoping

by ravensfight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, HP: EWE, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Post-War, luna plays matchmaker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-10-09 12:24:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10412118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravensfight/pseuds/ravensfight
Summary: Still recovering from the betrayal of his last relationship, Harry uses work as an escape so that he doesn't have to deal with the woes of having a personal life. When his boss gives him an ultimatum however, he is reluctantly forced into action. The problem is, he's fallen right into a scheme concocted by Luna. A scheme that somehow involves the elusive Draco Malfoy, who won't pause long enough to even give him the time of day.





	1. The Catch

The standard Ministry memo flew through offices and around Ministry workers’ heads, easily avoiding the occasional batting hand or opening door. It swerved through cubicles plastered with moving images of criminals and pinned maps, pausing only to sharply turn into a particularly full cubicle. Of the cubicle’s three walls, only one had any space to speak of and even that space was only big enough to hold a small picture, a tiny hole the size of a pin the only evidence that there used to be something there.

The only occupant of the space was currently fast asleep on his desk, face plastered on the paperwork he had been working on only a few hours prior. Having been spelled to be of an urgent nature, the memo took no time in jabbing the young man in the neck, effectively inciting an undignified yelp from the man as he jumped and nearly fell out of his chair, only saving himself from the spill by hastily grabbing onto his desk with both hands.

Now awake, Harry looked around warily, his bright green eyes exhausted and surrounded by deep, purple circles. Upon spotting the hovering paper airplane-shaped memo, he held out a hand, palm up. The memo then landed in his hand and unfurled itself to reveal its contents. The message was from Robards, Harry’s supervisor, and contained only a single sentence demanding Harry’s presence in his office.

Letting out a yawn, Harry cast a quick look at his watch and reckoned that he’d been asleep for about three hours. Since it was still much too early for anyone to have seen him sleeping on the job, he supposed that Robards must want something else than to lecture him about going home when the work day was over and getting the proper amount of sleep, a lecture that he also received at least once a week from Hermione as well as from Mrs. Weasley and Andromeda whenever he visited. He liked to think that he’d perfected the art of pretending like he was going to change his ways and he agreed with them just to get them off his back about it, because if truth be told, his problems weren’t going to be fixed by a mere lecture, no matter how many times he heard it or from how many people.

Wanting to avoid unnecessary questions into his personal life from his boss, he fished out a small mirror from within the catastrophe that was his desk. The mirror was a gift from Dumbledore’s brother Aberforth after the war, the remains of its twin lie safely among his most treasured possessions in a box under his bed at home. Though its function as a two-way mirror was long gone, Harry still kept it with him for use as a regular mirror and to feel some sort of connection to his late father and godfather. The face the mirror showed him caused a grimace to tarnish his already mussed features, though to be fair, he wasn’t really surprised at what he saw. He sent a simple cleaning charm at his face to remove the ink stains from the reports he’d been laying on and a refreshing charm on his hair. His eyes were a lost cause, though, so he just added a light glamor over them to cover the worst of it, a spell he refused to admit his proficiency in, even to himself.

Deciding that was the best it was going to get at the moment, he stood from his desk and started to make his way through the maze of cubicles that the auror office had become over the past few years. Months of practice had him taking the route with the least number of early risers, not wanting to receive any of his usual questioning stares. However, no matter what route he took, there were always a couple of people already there despite the hour that looked up at him with concern as he passed. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that a combination of Hermione’s ruthlessness and Robards’s incessant worrying was the cause for the looks he received from his fellow aurors when they saw him this early in the morning. Trying very hard to keep his temper (something that was always hard for him on little sleep), he managed to smile, albeit in a grimacing fashion, at the few he passed on his way to his boss’s office. Thankfully, they all typically turned away after that, too absorbed in their own cases to do more than glance at him.

Robards’s office was in the very center of the maze, a location that he said gave him access to everyone though he rarely left it other than to attend meetings. Generally, he just called whomever he needed to see to come to him or they came of their own accord. The office, unlike Harry’s three-walled and very crowded cubicle, was quite spacious and, to Harry’s immense jealousy, had four walls. Granted, much of the time the walls were completely transparent so that Robards could look out over the rest of the aurors if he needed to. Still, due to the magical state of them, they could easily be adjusted to be opaque as well as soundproof at any time according to the owner’s will. To top it off, the desk was massive, the desk chair looked so much more comfortable than his, and there was even a couch. 

Harry’s boss wasn’t on that luxurious couch or sitting behind the desk when he knocked on the door and was told to enter. He was standing with his back to him at a magically extended filing cabinet, looking for who-knows-what within the hundreds of files just in that drawer alone. “Harry, take a seat, my boy. I’ll be with you in a minute.” Robards said without looking up and Harry silently sat down on one of the two chairs placed in front of Robards’s desk for visitors. Trying very hard to hold in a yawn, he bit down on his tongue and forced himself to look around the office at the various familial pictures and awards that decorated the transparent walls. Having seen them multiple times before, they were rather boring to look at, but they provided at least enough distraction for him not to topple over onto his boss’s desk while he waited.

After what seemed like an eternity to Harry, Robards turned around, holding a rather hefty file and sat down with it on the other side of the desk. When his boss turned his line of sight on him, Harry blinked several times and sat up straight so as not to appear as tired as he really felt. Robards set the folder down on the desk and curiosity getting the better of him, Harry glanced down at it and was surprised to see that the label on it read “Potter, Harry James”. He slowly lifted his head back up, trepidation slowly lowering down his back. Had Robards finally had enough of him? Sure, he barely ever got enough sleep and most of the time he forgot to eat, but he always got his work done and as far as he knew, he was the fastest in the department on solving cases that were sent his way. Surely that meant he wouldn’t be fired, right?

Robards gave a heavy sigh that did absolutely nothing to ease Harry’s growing anxiety before beginning to speak, “Harry, I’ve been at this job a long time. Hell, I was here even before Goblin-crusher Fudge became minister.” They both chuckled lightly at that. The after-effects of the war had done well for _The Quibbler_ and now even those that think poorly of the odd magazine know some of the more audacious theories, the one about Fudge being especially popular since he’s everyone’s favorite joke minister. “Anyway, Harry, I’m getting old and even though I’ve had this position for less than a decade, I think it’s time I retired and gave it to someone else.” He paused here and Harry frowned, not sure where he was going with this. After all, Harry couldn’t hope to be the Head for another ten or twenty years. He was still far too young.

“Sir, I don’t think I quite understand.” He spoke slowly, his voice unsure as he eyed the older man in front of him.

“Oh, my boy, I want to give you my job. I’m going to promote you to Head Auror, if you agree to it.” Robards said, not giving any room for questioning as to what he meant.

Harry, however, was not buying it. “But sir, surely I’m not qualified for that. There are plenty of other aurors that have been here longer than me and have a lot more experience.”

Robards just shook his head and tapped the file on the desk in front of him. “Harry, despite your age, you have more experience than most. You are by far the best at just about every subject from tracking to defense. You very rarely go by the book which in your case, has done nothing but help this department to the point that I’ve considered multiple times throwing the book out and having you write a new one. And don’t think I haven’t noticed you constantly going out of your way to help other teams out with their cases when one of yours reaches a lull point. I can’t think of a single person in this department that is more qualified than you to take over my position.”

Harry felt a rush of warmth to his face and he had to look down at the desk, not able to meet his boss’s eyes after all that. No matter how hard Harry tried, he couldn’t say Robards was wrong. In fact, he knew somewhere that he was right. It was just hard to find that part of him when he had so many ready excuses for why he worked so hard. It wasn’t necessarily the work that got him moving, after all. That was mostly just a distraction so he wouldn’t have to think about other, more unpleasant, parts of his life. He had thought Robards knew that, after all the lectures he’d received over the past year. 

“I…err, thank you, sir.” He managed to mutter around his jumbled thoughts.

Robards smiled widely and reached over the desk to pat Harry on the shoulder. “That’s what I like to hear. Still, Harry, I do have one rather important condition for this promotion that I need you to consider.” He paused until Harry looked up and met his eyes, confusion clear in the green irises. “I’m going to take you under my wing for a little while and show you the ropes of being…well, me, so that you are prepared for when I leave you to it. During that time, I need you to sort out your personal life.” Harry opened his mouth to protest, once again, that he was fine but Robards held up a hand to stop him. “I know that as your boss what you do outside of work is none of my business, but since you are barely ever outside of work, I feel that it is my duty to make sure you are fulfilling the life part of the work-life balance. Now, I’m not saying that you must keep me updated on your life or anything, I’m just saying that you need to go out and experience the world outside of this office and trust me, I’ll be able to tell if you do. No more saying, it’s time to start doing, Harry.”

“I…but sir, shouldn’t this job require me to pay more attention to work?” Harry tried feebly, his face a tired grimace. 

Robards shook his head and sighed once more. “Harry, you will drown if you keep having this little variety in your life. You need sleep. You need family. Son, you need to do something else besides work. I hate to say it, but if you can’t reach that balance by the time I’m done training you, I won’t be giving you the job. In fact, depending on how bad it gets, I might have to let you go just to force you to do something else. This is for your health, Harry. You need to stop using work to escape from life.”

Sensing that there would be no way to argue his way out of this one, Harry conceded to his boss’s terms because at this point, he didn’t really have much of a choice. It was either take this chance and find some way to appear like he has a life outside of work or get fired, and the second option was not something he could handle right now. Robards stood and Harry followed suit, trailing him to the door where Robards opened it for him. They shook hands. “Take the rest of the day off, Harry. And no, that isn’t a request. Get some rest and go out drinking with Weasley or something. I’ll see you on Monday to begin your training.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. It's been a while. I have a bit of an idea for this story and I'm hoping it'll go the way I want it to. I don't have a schedule for updates yet, so don't ask. I do have the first two and a half chapters written, so I'll post chapter 2 next week to give me time to work on chapter 3. Can't wait to hear what you guys think though I know this chapter doesn't give much. It's just exposition. :)


	2. What Best Friends Are For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As per Robards's suggestion, Harry goes out with Ron.

When Harry arrived home about an hour after his meeting with Robards, he immediately wanted to leave. Sleeping here in this too big house that held too many memories wasn’t going to happen unless he downed a bottle of dreamless sleep first, which wasn’t even an option anymore after how he “misused” it according to Hermione after the war. After one little accident that resulted in him being in a coma for a week, she’d taken it all away, citing that he was addicted and needed to seek help for his dreams outside of potions. She’d even gone so far as to tell every healer in the Greater London area to not give him any if he asked for it. Even Madam Pomfrey refused him when he decided to visit Hogwarts as a last-ditch effort. That was when he became very good at barely sleeping; there had only been about a two-year period where he’d had a decent sleeping schedule but that had obviously gone down the drain last year along with his ability to be in this house for longer than ten-minute spurts.

Therefore, he’d barely put his stuff down in his room and changed into some clean, barely-used robes before he was out the door again and apparating away to Diagon Alley. With the school year almost over, Harry could see parents with young children out doing their shopping in order to prepare for their older children’s return. As he passed by them, he could hear fathers complaining about the higher prices and mothers fussing over the lack of certain items in the shops. Whenever he heard his name, as he was still apt to do when passing by magazine stalls, he ducked his head and quickened his pace, easily dodging the unnecessary attention after years of practice. His ears couldn’t help overhearing a couple of witches gossiping together over a copy of _Witch Weekly_ and turned a frustrated pink upon hearing them describe him as the most eligible bachelor. 

“It’s hopeless, Vee. He’s been out of the limelight so long. I don’t know why they even mention him in these things anymore.” One of the witches at the stall said with a frown, causing Harry to slow his movements.

“June, you just don’t get it! He’ll show up any day now with someone new on his arm. You just wait.” Vee gushed and Harry couldn’t help but cringe.

“It’s been over a year. Tina says he’s lost his spark and has become a hermit since. I have half a mind to believe her. It’s not like he’s been in the _real_ news since the whole debacle with what’s his name.” June stated rather flippantly, flinging some of her fashionably curled hair over her shoulder.

Vee bristled at that. “Now, really! That’s not very nice. You know very well how hurt he was when that all came out. Why, he was practically crying in that picture in the _Prophet_. He deserves so much better than that sneak Cole Richards!”

Harry sucked in a sharp breath at the name, feeling a sudden intense pain in his chest. Both witches turned at the noise and their eyes widened simultaneously at the sight of him looking their way. Before they could say anything else, he ducked his head and hurried down the street away from them. It was with a sigh of relief that he entered the familiar chaotic atmosphere of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. His heart was still banging an erratic beat in his chest as he looked around the store for his former partner and best friend. Moving through this store was a lot easier than moving along the street outside. For one thing, it was so crowded with objects and people that no one particularly cared if he passed them. For another, if they did care enough to make a scene, they’d be kicked out of the store because George had a strict _Leave-Harry-Potter-Alone_ policy.

After weaving his way through various dubiously-dangerous items and busy patrons, Harry found Ron on the second floor explaining to an elderly wizard the merits of muggle magic tricks. Harry watched from one of the many sweet stands with an amused grin on his face as the man repeated the same question in a couple separate ways, Ron growing more frustrated by the minute. When they caught eyes, Ron immediately grinned and somehow pulled a young woman out of thin air to deal with the nuisance customer instead. As his best mate walked over, Harry could see the young woman glaring at his back. Harry’s grin widened.

“Harry! Did Robards finally throw you out?” The redhead said, smirking.

Harry scratched the back of his head and said sheepishly, “Kind of. Mind not telling Hermione, yeah?”

Ron frowned. “Is she on your case again? I thought you were doing better from the way she’s been acting lately.”

“She…err…thinks so. Listen, can we talk?” He said, his tone rather urgent. 

His frown deepening, Ron nodded once, immediately understanding Harry’s needs after over a decade of friendship. “Sav, can you tell George I’m leaving for today?” He called to the girl who had just successfully freed herself from the older wizard. Savannah nodded. Though from her expression, she didn’t seem very happy about it. 

“Are you okay to leave?” Harry asked, concerned about taking away a senior member of the staff just for his personal needs.

Ron just waved him off. “It’s technically my day off anyway. I’m only here because Mione’s at work and Rosie’s with Mum, so it’s bloody dull at home. Let’s get out of here. Blue Roof sound about right?” He tacked on at the end as he led Harry back downstairs and out onto the street. Harry just nodded his reply, having lost his ability to form words the moment they got outside.

They walked together to the apparition point and then turned on their heels, leaving Diagon Alley behind. They appeared in an alley next to a dumpster and slipped seamlessly into the cross-street foot-traffic with practiced ease. Two blocks down, they entered a quaint little restaurant that, true to its name, had a blue roof. More comfortable in the muggle world away from prying wizards, Harry greeted the hostess by name with a half-real smile and followed her dutifully to their usual booth.

By the time their waitress arrived, Ron's nose was planted firmly in the menu with zero chance of surfacing in next ten minutes. Harry ordered coffee for both of them and extra cream for Ron, who liked his cream with coffee instead of the other way around. As per usual, Harry was left swirling sugar into his coffee as he waited patiently for Ron to figure out that there was nothing new on the menu, sigh, and then pick out his favorite sausage and hash brown skillet.

As if on cue with Harry's thoughts, Ron set the menu down with a sigh and a shake of his head, closed it, and raised a hand to call their waitress back over. The waitress, Holly, served them several times before and as such, knew the look on Ron’s face. She glanced at Harry with a grimace, who responded with a shrug and a smirk, before pulling out her notebook and asking, “What can I do for you today, boys?”

Ron scrunched up his nose and asked, “Do you have a special that’s not listed on the menu?”

Holly bit her lip in mild frustration. “Yes, sir, but you’ve had it before. It’s the oatmeal with a side of ham.”

Ron groaned. “Fine. I’ll just have the hash brown skillet with extra sausage then.”

Harry rolled his eyes as Holly said, “Can do! I’ll bring that hot sauce you like over too.” Ron beamed. “And can I get anything for you today?” She said, turning to Harry.

Harry shook his head. “I’m good with just coffee, thanks.” Holly frowned at his response, but didn’t say anything, just nodded and walked back towards the kitchen after taking their menus.

Freed from his menu and the struggle of ordering at last, Ron poured the entire jar of creamer into his coffee. He stirred it a bit and then pointed his dripping spoon at Harry, causing coffee to drip all over the table. “Tell me what happened. I will only tell Hermione if it’s something that she absolutely needs to know, otherwise it’s just between us.”

Harry silently agreed to the terms, knowing Ron was good for it after all these years. Taking a sip of his coffee, he decided to start with the good news first. “Robards is giving me his job.”

Ron swallowed too fast and immediately started coughing. Holding up one finger to tell Harry he’s fine, he pounded on his chest with the other hand a couple of times until his throat decided to settle. Once he found his words again, he immediately spluttered, “Come again?!”

Harry grimaced. “Are you going to nearly die this time?”

“Ha ha, very funny. Are you bloody serious? You’re going to be Head…err, detective?” He exclaimed, remembering where they were about halfway through.

Harry grinned with all his teeth, chuckling into the back of his hand. “Y-yeah. I’m still having a tough time believing it myself.” He said once he’d gotten a hold of himself.

Ron looked about ready to burst in glee for his best friend. He was nearly out of his seat when something dark marred his exhilaration. He slowly sank back down into the booth. “There’s a catch, isn’t there? You wouldn’t’ve come to me like you did if there wasn’t a catch.”

Harry sighed and nodded, taking another sip of his coffee. “He basically told me to get a life.”

Ron frowned. “No offense, but so does everyone. What makes this any different?”

Harry suddenly decided that his coffee definitely doesn’t have enough sugar in it and went about putting more instead of answering Ron’s question, knowing the kind of response he’d receive, even if it would be gentler than if he was telling this to Hermione.

“Is it that bad?”

Harry took a sip, grimaced at the taste, put the coffee back down and turned back to the conversation. “If I don’t achieve a life outside of work before he’s done training me, not only do I not get the job, I also lose the job I currently have.”

Ron was quiet for a long time after that, long enough for his food to finally arrive. He ate wolfishly as usual, albeit at a slightly slower pace. Harry’s only words after his explanation had been to the waitress to ask for a fresh cup as he had ruined his with the extra sugar that he’d not needed after all. Now sipping his new cup, he waited, knowing that Ron was thinking very hard on the right way to respond and not wanting to push anything.

Finally, when Ron’s plate was about halfway finished, he put down his fork and looked Harry straight in the eye, a smirk forming in the corner of his mouth. “You know what you need?” He paused so Harry shook his head in answer. “You need a party.” Harry immediately opened his mouth to object but Ron held up his hand to stop him and continued, his grin growing bigger with every word. “No, I’m serious. We can get the old gang in on it. Neville and Hannah are out, of course, but I think Luna’s in town. Maybe we can get her to bring Mr. High-and-mighty-my-grandfather-wrote-a-textbook-but-I-won’t-give-my-girlfriend’s-friends-the-time-of day.” Ron had to pause after that, having tried to say all the last bit in one breath.

Seizing his chance, Harry said, “Ron, that’s really not necessary. There’s nothing really all that big to celebrate.”

Ron narrowed his eyes and pointed his fork at Harry like a wand. “Nothing to celebrate? You’re bloody bonkers. You’ve been made Head of Department and you don’t want to have a party? Nuh-uh. No way. I’m telling Hermione and there’s no chance in Azkaban you’re getting out of this. Plus, it counts as having a life, right? Hanging out with friends?”

With that, Harry finally understood what the point of the idea was. Harry sighed and nodded. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad? Hanging out with friends? “Fine, but keep the catch between us, okay? Hermione would go nuts if she knew about that.”

Ron feigned being hurt, his hand flying to his chest as if he’d been stabbed there. “You wound me, Harry. I would never. You know I like my women with only a healthy amount of crazy and nothing more.”

Harry raised an eyebrow and sat back in the booth. “Hey, you said it, not me.”


	3. Cornered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets a party thrown in his honor. Too bad the party guests have other things in mind.

            It took Hermione a week and a half to set up the party once Ron told her about Harry’s promotion. True to form, Ron had neglected to mention Robards’s stipulation and for that, Harry was grateful. Due to this, Hermione’s focus was completely on the good news and making sure that everyone would be around to help celebrate it instead of badgering him about how it was about time Robards did something as he knew she would if she knew.

            During that time, Robards had started Harry’s training. In order to accommodate how much time they were going to be spending together, they started by moving Harry’s cubicle to right next to Robards’s office. This came with the slight plus of being closer to his new mentor and boss but also with the incredible minus of the exact same thing. Sure, it now took him less time to go back and forth from his desk whenever Robards needed him for some menial task, but it also meant that he could no longer hide behind his three walls as he had grown so accustomed to doing. He had a feeling that Robards knew this if his cheeky smirk at Harry’s failed protests meant anything at all.

            After spending the first day moving and signing lots of confidentiality agreements, he was under the impression that he would see how different being Head Auror was from a regular auror over the next few days. He was sorely mistaken. Instead on his second day, he was handed a large stack of reports written by his fellow aurors and told to look through them for any mistakes or missing information, something he’d done several times in the past voluntarily when he was looking for extra work. The next several days continued in a similar manner to the point that Harry was beginning to think he’d actually been demoted to Robards’s secretary. The only thing that constantly reminded him of what was at stake was when Robards would come to his desk at five on the dot and tell him to go home with a not-so-subtle reminder to not come in until nine the following morning.

            He supposed Robards’s plan for him to get a life was sort of working in a way because at the very least, he was spending more time around his friends and family in order to avoid being inside his big empty house by himself. Andromeda was ecstatic every time he came around, even if it wasn’t to take Teddy out but just to play with him there. She was so proud of his promotion and how he was handling it that she even stopped nagging at him to find a partner. The same could not be said about Mrs. Weasley. Of course, she thought the promotion was wonderful, but she was concerned that it would mean more work and less time for him to find someone to settle down with, a thought that Harry wished she would just drop. After all, the chances of him finding someone that wanted him for him was infinitesimally small.

            When the second Friday since the announcement of his promotion arrived with the promise of his congratulatory party at the end of it, Harry was very nearly jumping out of his seat to get to it just to get away from the monotony that his job had become. When Hermione arrived at his desk at 4:45 with a greeting on her tongue, he didn’t even allow her to speak before he was already up and pulling her out of the auror headquarters. He was very nearly free before he heard Robards calling him back. With what he thought was a heroic amount of patience, he stopped and turned back towards his boss.

            “Have fun tonight, Harry. I promise I’ll have some more interesting activities for you next week.” Robards said with a wave and a wink before disappearing back into his office, whose walls were now opaque.

            Harry tried not to groan for he didn’t exactly trust Robards’s definition of interesting anymore before resuming pulling Hermione by her hand towards the lifts. “Where to?” He asked her once he’d pressed the button for the atrium and settled against one of the walls.

            “Mine. Rose is with my parents for the weekend and I thought you’d be more comfortable if we did it somewhere familiar and private instead of in a public place.” She answered with a small smile and a squeeze of his hand. “I only invited the old gang. That’s fine, right?”

            Harry nodded and squeezed her hand back before dropping it. “You did good. Thanks Hermione.”

            Hermione’s smiled widened and she gave him a slight shove with her shoulder. “Sure thing. You know I always have your best interests at heart.”

            Harry rolled his eyes but didn’t reply as the lift dinged and opened to reveal with long hall with floos lining both sides. He stepped up to the closest one and looked over at his friend. “Mine first so I can change? Auror robes aren’t exactly party appropriate, right?”

            Hermione chuckled and shook her head. “If you think otherwise, I’m sending you to Shell Cottage for a month with strict instructions for Fleur.” She then took a pinch of floo powder, called out the name of his house, and disappeared in a whirl of green flames. He sat back for a second or two before following.

            When he managed to get all the ash out of his eyes, he looked up to see Hermione glaring at him. It wasn’t until he fully took in their surroundings that he understood what she was mad about. With him barely being in the house for longer than a few hours to shower and get a few hours of nightmare-fueled sleep, he’d let it fall into disrepair and it wasn’t like he had Kreacher or anyone else around to keep it up for him. Every surface in the kitchen (which is where they were at now) was covered with a thick layer of dust. There was a package of moldy bread on the counter and one of the cabinets had a handle hanging off it. That was just the kitchen, he knew for a fact that the rest of the house would be in a similar to a worse state. He only hoped nothing vicious had moved back in while he was ignoring the house’s upkeep.

            “Harry, we spent an entire _year_ cleaning this place and look at it now! What have you been doing?” She yelled, looking almost as if she were ready to either pull her hair out, punch him, or both.

            Knowing that there are very little options that will leave him unscathed in this situation, he decided to use the only trump card he had. “Hermione, can you leave it for now? I mean, today’s my party after all. You wouldn’t want to get mad at me today of all days, right?”

            Hermione looked conflicted, her hands curling and uncurling, her teeth roughly chewing on her bottom lip. After a few more terrifying moments, she took in a deep breath and released it before saying, “You’re right. Today is a day for joy. Go get changed but don’t think you’re getting away with this. I’ll be coming over tomorrow to supervise the cleaning of this place.”

            Harry all but ran up the stairs to his bedroom and quickly changed into some comfortable muggle clothing, knowing that the faster he went, the less time Hermione would have to look at the rest of the house. He found her in the drawing room on the second floor, having been right to be concerned about her wandering. She was looking at the Black family tree, her arms crossed with her wand in her hand. The room looked half cleaned already and Harry expected her to be angrier at him for the mess but instead she just looked confused about something, a frown disturbing her facial features.

            “H-Hermione?” He ventured warily, taking a step into the room.

            She looked up, startled. Upon seeing him, she blinked a few times and shook her head before uncrossing her arms and pointing towards the door. “Well, shall we?” Then she was pushing him back out of the door without giving him a chance to see what she was so puzzled with or giving any explanation.

            One apparition and a few words of greeting later, Harry was sitting on Ron and Hermione’s couch with a glass of firewhiskey in his hand while Hermione dashed off to change and Ron sat across from him in his favorite lounger. Sinking into the well-used sofa and leaning his arm against the arm of the couch, Harry frowned at the lack of other people and turned to raise an eyebrow at Ron. “Where’s everyone else?”

            Ron snorted. “The party’s not for another hour so that everyone has time to get off work and change. You’re only here now because ‘Mione thought you’d skive off if she didn’t drag you from work. I reckon Neville will get here first since he doesn’t have any afternoon classes.”

            “Think Rolf will show up?” Harry asked, taking a sip of his drink and relishing in the way it burned as it went down his throat.

            Ron shrugged noncommittally. “We tried to make it perfectly clear in our invitation that we want him here, but who knows. You know Luna. She wouldn’t give us a straight answer either way.” Harry frowned but nodded, understanding immediately how misty Luna was even now. “So how’s the new position?”

            That question was a mistake on Ron’s part. It opened up Harry’s need to vent and as such, he was still complaining about the promotion or lack thereof when a knock sounded from the front door. Ron started to get up to answer it when Hermione came screeching into the living room. “I got it!” She called and jumped to the door before Ron could really register that he could sit back down. The door opened and Hermione could be heard saying, “Oh, hi Neville. It’s nice to…what is _that?_ ”

            There was a bit more of an exchange Harry couldn’t quite make out, but he needn’t have bothered anyway. As soon as Neville walked into the room, Harry understood immediately what Hermione was so concerned about. As Hogwarts Herbology professor, he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that Neville showed up to places carrying a potted plant. Except that this potted plant looked like something straight out of a horror film. It was about two feet in height and was some sort of flower judging by the shape of the blossom. The only thing was that it was an oil black color with sticky, black sap clinging to the leaves and stem. Oh, and the fact that each petal had a different colored human eye all looking in various directions as Neville stepped further into the room.

            “Err, Neville, care to explain?” Harry asked, his voice slightly high pitched as he tightened his hold on his firewhiskey.

            Neville, for his part, placed the plant on the counter separating the kitchen from the living room so that if one tried hard enough, they might be able to forget its existence. Turning back to his three friends, he grinned widely. “Isn’t it amazing? It’s called the praesidio omni. I found some while backpacking in Peru last summer. I thought since you’ll have your own office now, it’d be a cool gift. It can watch everything and if it senses something wrong, it’ll warn you by shooting its sap at the issue.”

            Harry tried very hard to not grimace or show any other sign of distaste or fear at Neville’s gift as he said in only a slightly squeaky voice, “Um. Thanks Neville.”

            “No problem, Harry. You know I always have your back.”

            Harry nodded but shot a pointed look at Hermione, who picked up his meaning quickly as ever. “Hey Nev, I’m going to put the omni out in the garden during the party, okay?” Neville nodded happily and sank down onto the other side of the couch as Hermione hurried to put the terrifying plant outside.

            “Speaking of backs, how’s Hannah holding up?” Ron asked, his face slightly queasy but with a fierce determination for a change of subject.

            Neville grimaced at that. “Not good. I mean, the pregnancy’s going along fine, but she’s getting more frustrated at her lack of ability to do anything. That and the fact that I’m barely ever around because of Hogwarts…it’s just causing a lot of strain right now. I was only able to make it today because she’s staying with her brother for the week.”

            “That sucks, man. It’ll get better once the kid is born. It was like that with ‘Mione and me too. She couldn’t wait to get out of the house.” Ron said.

            “So not having any more munchkins any time soon?” Harry asked, not being able to hold back a snicker at Ron’s abashed face.

            “Absolutely not!” Came Hermione’s voice as she closed the door to the garden. “I mean, I love Rose, but I can’t afford to miss that much work again. I’m so close to the next promotion. I can feel it.” Harry exchanged a look with Ron that said plainly that he and Hermione were currently in a disagreement about more kids. Harry sent him a sympathetic expression but didn’t approach the subject anymore for fear of Hermione’s wrath.

            It wasn’t long after that that the other members of the party arrived, though thankfully, none of the rest of them brought a disturbing present with them. Seamus and Dean arrived next after Neville, Seamus carrying a bottle of Ogden’s finest. Luna arrived shortly after them with apologies about Rolf not being able to make it. Hermione covertly gave Ron a galleon while pouring him his next drink after this. When Harry confronted her later, she just sighed and shook her head. “I knew he wouldn’t show, but I wanted some hope, you know?” Ginny was the last to arrive, citing a late training practice as an excuse for her tardiness.

            With everyone there, Hermione, with Ron’s help, brought out various party foods and placed them on the coffee table. They all took places around it whether that be cuddled on the couch, lounging in one of the few chairs or just sprawled out on the living room floor. With the none of the group save for Ron and Dean all that comfortable with sitting in one place for too long, they moved around as they enjoyed each other’s company. By the end of the first hour, Harry was lying on his back on the floor, his head in Ginny’s lap as she played with his hair with one hand and narrated ridiculous quidditch stunts from her practices with the other.

            “I’m thinking about retiring, actually.” She finished her story with a sigh, causing Harry, who had only been half listening, to turn his head to look properly up at her face with concern.

            “Wait, really?” Ron asked incredulously.

            Ginny nodded, the hand in Harry’s hair stopping its movements. “Yeah. I know I’m only twenty-five and I’ve probably got another five to ten years in me, but with my schedule, it’s kind of hard to find someone and I really do want to settle down soon.”

            “I thought you didn’t want kids?” Harry asked in barely above a whisper. It had been one of the many arguments they’d had while they were still together and frankly, one of the top contenders for why they eventually broke up.

            “I don’t…not really. I don’t know. I really just want to have someone to come home to, you know?” She leaned her head back against the fireplace brick and her look was so wistful that Harry had to turn away.

            He knew all too well what she meant. It was the main reason why he avoided going to Grimmauld Place as much as possible, why he hated sleeping in his too big bed, why he threw himself into work and avoided everyone that wanted him to have that too. The trick was that while if she had more time, made more time, she could find someone to spend her life with, no problem. For him, finding someone was nearly impossible.

            “Well, that’s really good. Do you have any thoughts on what you’d do instead of the Harpies?” Hermione said, her smile thoughtful.

            Ginny shook her head. “The only thing I’ve ever really been into is quidditch. I’m not really sure what else there is, to be honest.”

            “You’re a good writer.” Luna said, holding her glass by the tips of her fingers and looking for all the world like she had something else troubling her mind. But then, this was Luna, so Harry knew that if it was important to her, she’d say something eventually. Therefore, he decided to instead focus on her words, which immediately brought upon the disturbing memory of a fat little dwarf with wings singing about fresh pickled toads.

            “Yeah, you are and you’re pretty knowledgeable about a lot of things. You could be a reporter.” Dean said inspirationally.

            Ginny frowned in thought for a moment before biting her lip and shaking her head. “Maybe…but I don’t want to leave quidditch behind completely.”

            Seamus piped up then, “You could report on quidditch. I know someone at the _Daily Prophet_ that might be able to get you into their sports section.”

            Ginny’s face visibly brightened at that. “Oh, thanks Seamus. That’d be amazing!”

            With that the conversation naturally flowed to this season’s quidditch rankings. Ginny was naturally biased towards the Harpies and Ron had never given up hope in the Chudley Cannons, but the rest of the conversation’s participants (Luna and Hermione went to get air during this and Neville occupied himself with looking at the plants kept inside the house) talked in earnest about who might make it to the next World Cup. Of course, this unsurprisingly coincided with more drinking and by the end of the topic, nearly everyone at the party was at least a bit tipsy, some like Seamus who could never hold his liquor past tipsy and nearing complete drunkenness. Harry himself was nearing the line between tipsy and drunk, having consumed more than he usually would to boost his ability to be social in the face of so many people. It was then that Hermione took her chance to strike.

            She came back into the room with Luna as the quidditch fanatics finally began to quieten down and plopped herself back down on the couch. Luna settled herself on the floor, taking Harry’s place in Ginny’s lap since Harry was now leaning against Ron’s armchair, his fifth glass settled between his legs. “So Harry, have you met anyone lately?” Hermione asked, a smile that Harry dubbed in his clouded mind as evil playing on her lips.

            Before Harry could even attempt to formulate a reply that would shut her down, Neville looked up in glee. “Are you looking again, Harry? That’s so great!”

            “I–”

            “If you haven’t, I know this great place downtown that you can look. Everyone there is super friendly.” Seamus crooned.

            “Err, I–”

            “Ooohhh! Never mind the club Seamus, I know just the perfect person. You’ll love her.” Dean said.

            “Who?” Seamus asked Dean, a frown deep on his face.

            “Jules. My coworker. I’ve told you about her. She’s sweet, younger than us a bit, but I think she’d be great for Harry.”

            “Yeah, actually. I think you’re right.” Seamus nodded his approval.

            Harry sank further against the armchair, imagining a young, brunet artist with stars in her eyes as she stared up at him, her Savior. “I don’t want anyone.” He mumbled into his drink.

            “Now, we all know that’s a lie.” Said Ron, leaning forward to place a hand on Harry’s shoulder. Harry looked up at him with betrayal in his eyes. His supposed best friend just smiled and shrugged, as if he wasn’t helping to fan the flames of this horrible conversation.

            “Why are you so against it? I think it would be good for you.” Ginny said, her voice gentle and not pushy.

            Harry let out a groan and took another long pull from his whiskey. Swallowing, he looked just at her and whispered, “I need someone that wants _me_.”

            There was quiet for a bit and it lasted for so long that Harry had hope that they were going to drop the subject. But then, Luna sat up, her eyes completely lacking their misty nature for once, and said in her most serious voice, “I know who you need.”

            “Who?” Hermione asked, looking troubled.

            Luna shook her head pointedly. “I don’t want to say right now. I can try to set something up, if you’ll agree, Harry. I promise that they are exactly what you’re looking for.”

            “Set something up? Like a blind date?” Harry asked weakly, finding it very difficult to get his bearings when Luna was staring at him as if he were prey she was intent on stalking.

            She nodded. “I’d have to get the other party to agree, of course, but I doubt I’d have much trouble.”

            Harry was silent, not sure what to think. Luna understood him on a whole different plane than others, including himself. Most of the time, it was a bit weird and confusing but in others he found it quite comforting. Could he trust her in this? Did she really know someone that could fill the gaping hole in his life?

            “Wait, wait, wait.” Hermione said, throwing her hands into the air. “I’m all for getting Harry out there, but we don’t have any information on this person at all. Are you sure they’re safe? Can you at least tell us what they look like?”

            Luna smiled, but did not turn from staring into Harry’s eyes, as if she was looking for something in particular. “If I tell you that, it’ll be obvious who they are, and I don’t think that’s very fair for them. However, they are safe. I can promise that.” She said. “So, Harry, what do you say?”

            Harry swallowed hard and bit his lip, but when he considered Luna’s eyes, he was surprised to see that she was pleading with him, despite how neutral her words sounded. She wanted this desperately and Harry, for the life of him, couldn’t figure out why. It was how much she wanted this that did it. He swallowed again and slowly nodded once. “Yeah, I suppose I’ll give it a go. One date’s not gonna kill me, right?”

            Luna then flashed him a full grin. “That’s the spirit!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! So this is the last exposition chapter, though I'm iffy on calling this one exposition. It's a bit longer but has nothing on Chapter 4. The length of these chapters will vary wildly depending on what I want happening. I just finished chapter 4 and I'm anxious to post it, but I might wait a few days just so I can get a head start on chapter 5.


	4. Butterbeer and Radishes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has a date and is in no way thirsty at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains Explicit content.

            Eventually, the party died down as people either left or crashed somewhere in the living room. When Harry woke up the next morning with a screaming headache, it was to find himself curled up on the couch with no memory of having gotten there. As carefully as he could, he bundled up the blanket someone had put on him last night and stepped around the bundle on the floor that was Ginny and Luna. He made it to the kitchen and planted himself on one of the barstools, gratefully accepting a glass of hangover potion from Hermione, who looked just as dead as he felt.

            Once he’d drunk at least half of the glass, he croaked out in a whisper, “Where are the others?”

            Hermione yawned and rubbed at her eyes. “Neville left first since he has to go back to Hogwarts, and Dean and Seamus left not long after that since Seamus has work in the morning. Ron’s still in bed, though I expect he’ll be up soon enough.”

            Harry nodded slowly and reached over to grab a banana from the counter. Hermione didn’t stop him so he pulled back his prize and began to peel it. She yawned again and turned towards the fridge, pulling out a couple of yogurts. She then headed towards the pantry where she retrieved the granola. With the simple ingredients at hand, she mixed the granola with the yogurt and handed one to Harry with a spoon before starting on hers.

            Silently, they ate as the others started to get up and join them. After the chaos of last night, the remaining party members were like the dead as they collected their things, said a few good morning’s and goodbye’s, and headed out for the day. Harry was the last one to leave, but when Hermione mentioned that she had to pick up Rose and that Ron was working today, Harry made his way out the door as well.

            The rest of the weekend passed by in a blur of nightmares and cleaning. Hermione came by once to make sure he was at least dusting and to force Neville’s gift on him, but otherwise, he was mostly alone in his creaky, old house. On Monday, Robards made good on his promise of a change in routine by taking him around to meet the other heads of department throughout the Ministry. Most of them were too busy to give more than an acknowledgement to Harry as Robards’s replacement, though a couple took the liberty of showing Harry what their department did and how it would be of help to him in the future. On Tuesday, Robards had Harry sit in on a meeting with the head of the Magical Law Enforcement about the crossover between their departments. Harry even managed to impress both heads with an idea about how to keep the confusion to a minimum.

            By Wednesday, Harry had completely forgotten about his promise to Luna and so was surprised when he found her sitting on his doorstep when he got home from work. When he apparated at the bottom of the steps, she gave a little jump and then got quickly to her feet, her necklace of butterbeer caps swinging in her hand. “Oh! Hello, Harry.” She said, giving him a quick one-armed hug.

            “Hullo Luna. What’re you doing here?” He asked, hoping he didn’t come off as if he didn’t want her around, because it was very much the opposite. Without the escape his desk at work provided him, being around friends that wouldn’t overly crowd him was the next best thing.

            “I’m here to get you ready for your date.” She said with a smile as she held out the necklace towards him.

            “D-date?!” He nearly screamed, taking a step back as his drunken memories came flooding back to him. “I-is that t-today?” He stuttered, taking another step away from Luna and her concerned expression.

            The arm holding out the necklace dropped to her side and she nodded. “You’ll still go, won’t you? I’m sorry about not telling you sooner. I only _just_ got them to agree.”

            “B-but it’s Wednesday!” He cried out uselessly, holding out his hands in an imploring gesture.

            Luna bit her lip and looked down at her shoes. “I know, but I’m worried if I wait, they’ll change their mind.”

            Harry sighed and moved around her, taking the necklace from her hand as he went. There was a little gasp from her when the necklace slipped from her hand but he paid her no mind, choosing instead to go into the house. She followed him all the way to his closet where he stopped and began rummaging through his clothes, most of which were at least two years old. “Where are we going? Does this person have some sort of taste that I must accommodate? Is it okay if I wear my normal clothes?” He asked without looking at her, too focused on frowning at his cluttered closet.

            “This quaint little Italian restaurant located on the Thames that Rolf brought me to last year. Yes, they’re quite picky. And no.” She answered, moving past him into the closet to look at what he had herself.

            “Perfect. I doubt I have anything for that in here.” He muttered as he threw a blue shirt with quite a few holes in it into a growing discard pile. “Why do I have this necklace, by the way?”

            “Oh! It’s so you can recognize each other. You’ll both be wearing something of mine: you have the butterbeer cap necklace and they have my radish earrings. How about this?” She said, holding up a dark green button-up he’s had for ages but had only worn once or twice.

            Harry shrugged and placed the necklace over his head before taking the shirt and a nice pair of blue jeans that he’d found and exiting the closet. He changed in his bathroom and when he came out, Luna was presenting him with a nice pair of black boots that he thinks Percy might’ve bought him for Christmas one year. He slipped them on and grimaced as he presented himself to Luna for inspection. She flattened out some creases in his shirt with her wand and ran one hand through his hair before shaking her head and turning back to the closet. She returned with a gold tie, which she then tied around his neck.

            “There. The green and gold really bring out your eyes. Are you ready?” She asked, her face lit with excitement.

            Harry nodded, a small smile peeking out despite out how stressed he felt. She then grabbed a hold of his arm and did a pirouette. They appeared along a crowded London street before a nice restaurant with live music, situated perfectly against the Thames. “They should already be here. Give my name and you’ll be shown where to go. Oh, and Harry?” Having already taken a couple of steps towards the door, Harry turned around and looked at Luna in anticipation. “Good luck!”

            He smiled and she disapparated. Swallowing down his nerves, he turned back to the restaurant and entered. The atmosphere of the restaurant was somehow both hectic and soothing at the same time. Waiters were flying this way and that, expertly weaving through the tight spaces between the tables, most of which were occupied by guests. Yet, the music was a slow jazz that diluted the cacophony of voices, making them only a faint buzzing in the background of what was otherwise tranquility. He felt himself melt as he moved towards the host’s podium where he gave Luna’s name and was immediately told to follow a different host that appeared.

            He was almost disappointed when he realized that the host was leading him outside. It was such a nice night, however, and the music still followed him out the door, so he didn’t quite lose the sense of ease that the inside of the restaurant gave him. The host led him to the last table on the patio, one that had a perfect view of the water and London across it. It was breathtaking, but not nearly so as who awaited him at the table.

            “Fuck,” He hissed out, feet planting hard into the wood below him. Grey eyes looked up at the noise, blond hair shifting in the light wind, and right in plain view, an orange radish hanging from a pale left earlobe. A storm brewed rapidly in those eyes as they took in Harry’s face, shifted downwards to the bottlecap necklace, and then back up to meet his eyes once more.

            “Sir, is there a problem?” The host asked and Harry started suddenly, his eyes forcing the connection to his date’s to be broken as he looked back at the host.

            “No, sorry. There’s no problem. Thanks.” He said, sending a rather forced smile at the man. The host nodded and then hurriedly disappeared back inside after saying that their server would be with them shortly. Harry took in a deep breath and then sank into the seat opposite his date. When he looked up again, it was to find grey eyes staring at him, a rather amused smirk painted on his face.

            “It seems we’ve been set up.” Malfoy said with something like a pained smile.

            Harry grimaced and leaned back into his chair. “No kidding.”

            Silence fell between them as they perused their menus. It was a basic Italian menu with a British naming scheme that amused Harry to no end. He was shifting over from the pasta section to the seafood one when he heard a sigh and a shuffle that sounded like a menu being put down. Harry lowered his so he could see Malfoy over it. Their eyes caught once more and the blond immediately broke the contact by looking down at the table where his menu now lay folded neatly.

            “It’s not necessary for us to stay here if we don’t want to.” Malfoy said, not meeting Harry’s eyes.

            Harry frowned and put his menu down as well, though he didn’t take the time to fold it back up as Malfoy had done. “Why? Do you want to leave?” He challenged, hoping to get a rise out of the blond. The dinner so far had been much too quiet for his liking.

            True to form, the blond head jerked up and met Harry’s smirk. “No. Do you?” He answered defensively.

            Harry shot him a winning smile. “Of course not. After all, I’ve already decided that Luna’s paying for this date and I’d rather get a full three-course meal out of it.”

            Something strange happened to Malfoy’s face then. He first looked slightly constipated, as if he was holding something in really hard. Then he bit his bottom lip and turned his face away. His shoulders started shaking as his right hand came up to his cover his mouth. Just when Harry was about to ask if he was okay, a sound Harry had never heard directed at him before erupted from Malfoy. It was slightly muffled by the hand, but Harry was sure that he was laughing. Legit shaking in his seat laughing. Not being able to help it, Harry smiled for real and picked up his menu to hide his reddening face behind it.

            Once the Slytherin reclaimed control over himself, Harry peeked over his menu again to find Malfoy actually smiling at him. “So we’re staying?” Harry asked, still hiding his blush with the menu. _Why is the sight of Malfoy happy so bloody attractive?_ He thought, finding it supremely unfair that the last several years had obviously been good to the other man if he looked this good. Meanwhile he was still sporting a glamor over his lower eyelids because despite his lessened time at the office, he still wasn’t sleeping well if he did sleep at all.

            Malfoy nodded. “I suppose if Lovegood’s paying then it couldn’t hurt.”

            “I don’t know. I think it still could.”

            Malfoy’s eyes widened at the implication and Harry immediately clamped a hand over his mouth and hid back behind the menu. _Shit! I said that out loud. What’s wrong with me?_

There was a scraping of metal on wood and then Harry’s menu was forced down towards the table to make room for Malfoy’s looming face, now inches from Harry’s own. His eyes were dark with hunger, as if the storm in them was seconds from breaking. His tongue poked out, drawing Harry’s gaze as it slid from one corner of Malfoy’s mouth to the other. Harry leaned forward a bit on instinct. “Is that a challenge, Potter?” He whispered, his voice sultry with just a hint of venom. Harry felt his heart pounding faster than normal, his pants tightening.

            And then before Harry could think of a response or do anything at all, Malfoy was back in his seat and looking up at their confused server with a dashingly fake smile. Before he quite knew what was happening, both the server and his date were looking at him expectantly. He stumbled through his order of ravioli, getting the king it was named after wrong twice before the server took pity on him. When they were finished ordering, the server took their menus, Harry’s safety net, away with a promise to return with their drinks and some bread soon.

            As if nothing just happened, Malfoy unfurled his silverware from their napkin casing and placed the napkin securely on his lap. When he looked up at Harry’s still red face, he smirked and leaned forward. “I hear you’re the most eligible hermit now. What, afraid of the limelight, oh Savior?”

            Harry’s face drained of all color and sat back in his seat, suddenly aware of how much he’d been leaning over the table. “No.” He said, crossing his arms across his chest.

            Malfoy’s smirk widened. “I see.”

            His brow furrowed in frustration at that. “There’s nothing to see and anyway, I could ask the same of you. I haven’t seen your name in the papers recently.”

            The blond leaned back a little and nodded, frowning. “Fair point. Unlike my father, I like to keep my personal matters, well, personal. I feel it is prudent given my…ah, position in society.”

            His wording made Harry curious as it what Malfoy would need to hide from the press, but he let the subject drop. He didn’t exactly want him poking too much into his own life, so felt it was right to afford him the same courtesy. When the server came back, she placed a basket of bread and a small bowl of olive oil in between them. She then filled both of their wine glasses with a red wine Malfoy must have picked out and their water glasses from a pitcher of water. After ascertaining that everything was still alright, she moved on from their table to the next that needed help.

            They were mostly quiet during the first course of salads, one of them occasionally bringing up a neutral topic and the other responding in kind before the subject got lost and there was silence again until one of them tried again. They bounced back and forth like this, neither quite knowing what to say to someone they’d never been close with and had only seen each other in passing over the past eight years. It was Harry that decided to take a chance during their main course. As he cut into one of his ravioli, he inched his right leg under the table and rubbed his calf against Malfoy’s left leg.

            He froze with a shrimp halfway to his mouth. Harry stopped moving his leg but did not draw back. Their eyes met and Harry could see the confusion in those stormy eyes. It was adorable. He smiled and pointedly loosened his tie with his left hand. The fork holding the shrimp slowly dropped back down to the plate. The confusion replaced with determination, Malfoy reached up and released the top two buttons from his shirt. Eyes following the movement, Harry’s mouth watered at the sight of Malfoy’s exposed collarbone. Without thinking, he licked his lips and heard him give a small gasp that went straight to Harry’s crotch.

            Suddenly feeling that two courses was definitely enough food, Harry looked around and called for their server to bring the check. She nodded from across the patio and finished with that customer before heading over and handing the small leather book to him. He looked at the number, fished out that amount with a decent tip, and handed it back to her. “Keep the change.” He said, standing up. “Coming, Malfoy?” He asked with a wink.

            Malfoy’s eyes were burning as he stood up. “Not yet.”

            Harry wasn’t quite sure how they made it back to Grimmauld. All he knew was that one minute they were in the restaurant and the next their mouths were locked together in his bedroom, tongues fighting for dominance. Using the inch he had on Harry, Malfoy forced him backwards towards the bed. When the back of his legs hit the footboard, he tipped over backwards onto the comforter, taking Malfoy with him. Reluctantly, their mouths broke apart so that they could more easily move further onto the bed. Once near the pillows, Harry used this chance to turn the situation around and force Malfoy onto his back, Harry climbing on top. His former rival let out a gasp that sent him reeling. He began to vehemently unbutton Malfoy’s shirt until the man let out a hiss and forced his hands away.

            “That’s silk, you halfwit. Let me do it.” He growled, pulling himself up a bit to have better access.

            Frustrated at the loss of Malfoy’s upper half, Harry shifted downwards and pulled off both pairs of shoes and socks, dropping them over the side of the bed. He was just about to unbutton his own shirt, when he felt something pull at his neck. He looked up to see a shirtless Malfoy tugging at his tie. Eyes widening at the hungry look in his date’s eyes, he allowed himself to be pulled by the neck back up the bed and shoved back onto his back, his head hitting the pillows.

            When he reached up to try and touch him, Malfoy grabbed both of his wrists with his hands and forced them back down to his sides. Annoyed, Harry watched as he meticulously unbuttoned Harry’s shirt and pushed the two sides out of the way to give him clear access to Harry’s chest. Fascinated with his lustful concentration, Harry shivered as wet lips kissed their way up his stomach, teeth nipping a bit here or there. When that amazing mouth found his nipple, he fisted the sheets and closed his eyes, letting out a moan.

            However, when teeth nipped at his collarbone, Harry was reminded of Malfoy’s stunt at the restaurant and opened his eyes, his hands coming up to push hard at an incredibly soft chest. Malfoy shifted backwards, his eyes suddenly turning worried. He opened his mouth to speak, but Harry cut him off by getting up and shoving him down in the place he’d just vacated. When his own teeth met a pale collarbone and sucked hard, he was satisfied when he heard a soft moan release from right above his head. Grinning against Malfoy’s neck, he had immense pleasure in attempting to leave as many marks as he could along the pale skin.

            Hands raked at his back and squeezed at his bum and he closed his eyes in pleasure, moving up to lock their mouths together again. It was Malfoy that broke their connection this time, his head turning to release his mouth. Harry moved back a bit so that the grey eyes could look at him. “More.” He said simply, indicating with a nod of his head at their still-clothed lower-halves.

            Grinning, Harry rolled off Malfoy so that they could both take their trousers and pants off without any trouble. Then, both hard and completely naked except for Luna’s gifts and Harry’s glasses, Harry hovered back over Malfoy and bit his lip. “Err, how do we want to…do this?” He asked, indicating between them with his hand.

            Grey eyes rolled and Malfoy let out a huff. “Potter, just fuck me already.”

            Harry choked a bit at that and nodded, moving back over to where he dropped his clothes to get his wand. He did a spell he hadn’t used in a long time and felt his fingers become wet with lube. He then moved back up to Malfoy, who had drawn his knees up to give Harry better access. Carefully, he pushed a finger inside and Malfoy gasped. Worried, Harry began to pull it out, but Malfoy just shook his head. “It’s fine. Keep going.”

            Nodding, Harry pushed the finger back in and moved it around, feeling the tight tissue that lined the walls. Once it felt a little looser, he slipped a second finger in and scissored him, pushing in and out. Malfoy shivered at his movements and Harry found it impossible to look away from his face, his eyes closed and mouth hanging open slightly. It was riveting.

            When he started to put a third finger in, Malfoy opened his eyes and shook his head. “I’m ready.”

            Taking that as an okay to go, Harry carefully slipped his fingers out of him and did the spell again, pointing at his cock this time. He used his fingers to make sure the lube was evenly spread before doing another spell for protection. Then he tossed his wand aside and shifted closer to the blond, positioning himself against Malfoy’s hole. Slowly, cautious of Malfoy’s every expression, he pushed himself in. When the blond cringed, he stopped and waited until he shifted and gave a nod to keep going. He continued like this until he was buried to the hilt, leaning over Malfoy, breathing ragged. Slim, pale arms leaned up and pulled him down closer. Their lips met once before he brought his to Harry’s ear and said, “Move, Potter.”

            That was all he needed. He shifted himself out a bit before slamming back in, changing the angle just a smidge each time until Malfoy let out a moan and then he rode that spot the rest of the way, intent on giving the other man the same amount of pleasure that he was getting. Once he found a rhythm and got mostly used to the way Malfoy felt around him, he reached up with his hand and began to stroke Malfoy to the same beat of his thrusts. The Slytherin came apart then, his hands fisting the sheets, the teeth biting his lip not able to hold back moans. Soon, Harry was responding with his own moans, the sight and the feeling too much for him.

            It didn’t take long after that for Harry to feel the pressure in his balls escalating and he sped up his movements, too lost in the moment to concentrate as easily as before on hitting the perfect spot. Malfoy didn’t seem to care though. He was leaning up and pulling Harry into him, squeezing hard on Harry’s arse. Their lips clumsily met and Harry let out a moan. “Malfoy, I’m gonna…” He gasped out.

            “Go.” Was the response and Harry went. With a couple particularly long and hard thrusts, he felt himself release into Malfoy and shortly after, he felt Malfoy cum between them, his release getting on both their chests and the sheets, but Harry didn’t care. As soon as he was done, he collapsed onto the pale, sweaty chest and slipped out.

            He was pushed off before he could really get comfortable and he groaned as his back hit the mattress. “What was that for?” He asked, opening his eyes when he felt a weight lift from the bed. Malfoy looked at him with a frown and shook his head before going back to rummaging through the clothes on the ground. Eventually, he stood up, wand in hand, and pointed it at Harry. Flinching instinctively, he was surprised to only feel a slight tingling sensation before he realized he (and the bed for that matter) was no longer sticky.

            Malfoy then pointed the wand at himself to perform the same spell and then started to pick up his clothes. “Wait. Are you leaving?” Harry asked, hating that his voice came out sounding whiny.

            The blond looked at him again and stared for a full minute in a calculating manner before shrugging and dropping the clothes back to the floor. He climbed back on the bed, placed his wand on the nightstand, nestled himself underneath the sheets. Grinning like an idiot, Harry pulled back the comforter and top sheet before slipping underneath them. He curled up next to Malfoy and prepared for him to tell him to back off, but it never came. Instead, he rolled over and slipped his arm underneath Harry’s head, which Harry then placed on Malfoy’s chest, his arms wrapped around his stomach as if he was a pillow. More comfortable than he’d been in a long time, Harry closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco has entered the story, finally. Let me know what you think, please!


	5. Distracted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Harry can't stop thinking about Draco, and Ginny is the literal best.

Harry was having the most pleasant dream he’d had in ages. It was not quite morning. He could make out hints of reds and oranges coming through the blurry curtain over the window signaling that the sun was on the move. He was lying on his side facing the window, one arm underneath the pillow under his head, the other intertwined with an arm hanging over his side. There was a warmth behind him as there hadn’t been in so long, but it was different in so many ways than he expected. Long and lean instead of short and stout. Pale instead of dark. He shifted back into the chest behind him. Toned hard instead of left soft.

A breath of air tickled the hairs on the back of his neck and he shivered in pleasure. The hand intertwined with his applied a bit of pressure and Harry smiled in the delirious way one does when they are both very happy and very sleepy. He shifted back into the other body again and nearly jolted away when he felt something hard slip between his butt cheeks. That something then moved on its own and rutted a bit further in the same region. Harry let out a gasp as he felt the tip brush into his entrance.

“Feeling frisky this morning, Potter?” Whispered a drawling voice into his ear.

Harry turned his head and was met with smoldering grey eyes that pulled at his long silent heart. “Malfoy,” He realized, taking in the pointy features that he had so memorized as a teenager up close. The hair that used to be cropped short and gelled back now hung just above his shoulders, one particular strand out of place with the rest hung across his nose and Harry itched to put it right. The skin was just as flawless as he remembered, but it also looked less healthy. There were dark circles under his eyes and his cheeks looked a bit sunken in as if he wasn’t taking care of himself properly. These peculiarities weren’t there last night, making Harry think that he was just as much of a fan of glamor spells as he was.

Harry wanted to say something. Perhaps that he was worried about him and wanted to know what caused that perfect face to be so tarnished. Perhaps that despite how unhealthy he looked, Harry thought he was still just as gorgeous as he’d been in school, maybe more so. Or perhaps that despite the awkwardness of the dinner, last night had been the most fun he’d had in years. However, instead of any one of his sentimental thoughts, he said, “So what if I am?” because Merlin forbid he ask for anything more than something physical from Malfoy. He had his stupid pride, after all.

Malfoy’s pale arm untangled itself from Harry’s grasp and once free, his whole body rolled away from him. Harry let out an involuntary whine at the loss of warmth that the other man hushed. “Patience, Scarhead. I need my wand if we want to do anything.” There was a clatter of wood against wood and then Malfoy’s warmth enveloped him again. He sighed in contentment and settled his back more against the toned chest.

He felt cold, wet fingers against his arse and reacted by scratching his toenail against the other man’s foot. “Ouch! What in Merlin’s name was that for?” Malfoy cursed. Harry rolled over to see him nursing his foot, which didn’t look hurt at all.

Chuckling, he said, “I don’t need any prep.” Malfoy just stared at him, his expression blank. “I, err, _prep_ myself, um, regularly.” He explained, his face reddening as his voice lowered in volume.  

Still holding his foot, Malfoy’s stare narrowed into a glare. “You could have just said that like a _normal_ person instead of attacking me.”

“Err, sorry.” He muttered, turning away from him.

There was some movement behind him and then Malfoy’s warmth was back, pressed against him, length wet against his arse. Grateful that he hadn’t overturned the delicate balance that lay between them, he pressed himself against Malfoy and felt his slick member slip between the cracks, tip caressing the very edge of the hole. A pale, long-fingered hand gripped Harry’s hip for leverage and then thrust inside. He let out a hiss at the stinging pain and the movement slowed to a stop. It had been so long since he felt something he wasn’t controlling inside of him that his body was rejecting it.

He bit his lip and breathed. He had to calm down. If he calmed, he could loosen up and it would be so much better. He knew this, but he was having trouble reconciling the feeling of being filled as a good thing. He felt stuffed and not in the good way. _Loosen, Harry. It’s okay._ He thought to himself, but images of the past contradicted the words. He tightened, his breathing uneven, his hands in fists.

“You can say no, you know. I’ll stop right now.” A soft voice whispered from behind him.

It was the voice that did it. It was so soothing and without a hint of frustration that Harry immediately melted at the words. He let out a sigh and nodded. The feeling of being stuffed left him as Malfoy slipped out. Harry turned over to find concern written all over the pointy face. He waited for him to say something, anything, about what just happened, but eventually he just pulled himself into a sitting position and checked the time with his wand. The numbers that appeared were blurry and before Harry could decipher them, they disappeared.

“I should go.” He said and Harry wasn’t certain if he was speaking to him or to himself.

“No,” Harry whispered without thinking.

Malfoy looked down at him, but his face was now far enough away that Harry couldn’t quite make out his expression without his glasses. Deciding he didn’t care what the expression was anyway, he lay on his back and put one arm over his eyes. “Stay,” He said and was proud that despite the wording, he voice didn’t have the begging ring to it that it had last night. After only a small pause, Malfoy shifted beside him and then curled his arms and head on top of Harry’s chest. Smiling, Harry closed his eyes and drifted off again.

When Harry awoke the next time, Malfoy was gone. He’d taken his warmth with him, leaving Harry to wake up shivering and looking for any ounce of it that the Slytherin could have left on the sheets, but he must have been gone for a while, because the sheets and pillows were cold. The only thing he’d left behind was his smell, which Harry breathed in deeply without thought. He smelled like spearmint and fresh cut wood. It was intoxicating.

Eventually, he pulled himself away from the sheets and found his glasses sitting on top of a piece of parchment on the nightstand. He shoved the glasses on his nose and unfolded the letter. He took one look at the words and let out a curse. He fell back on the bed and reread the letter several times before crumpling it up and tossing it across the room. Somehow, he’d deluded himself into thinking that his friends were right and this might be a chance at something. After all, it’d be pretty bloody obvious to him if Malfoy only wanted him for his fame. He knew everything about the git. Well, he had anyway.

Harry got up and checked the time, not even bothered that he was late for work. He glared at the note as he passed it on the way to the bathroom and after a short, cold shower, he kicked it on the way to the closet. Dressed, he leaned down and picked the abused piece of parchment up and shoved it into his pocket. He made it all the way to his front door before he pulled it out again and read it once more.

 

_Thanks for the lay, Potter. I don’t regret it, but let’s not make a habit of it._

_-DM_

Feeling the sting of rejection in a way that he hadn’t since he was fourteen, he crumpled the note up again and threw it across the hall. Then he left before he could change his mind again. Robards was thrilled that he was late, though he tried very hard to hide it as he lectured Harry on the importance of being on time. Harry apologized, sat the lecture out, and then threw himself into his work.

Or tried to anyway.

A team of four aurors had just returned from a routine scouting mission in Scotland and Harry was supposed to be paying attention while Robards debriefed them in the meeting room. They’d been gone for two weeks and had quite a bit to show for it. However, their story dragged on and Harry’s focus waned. His mind dreamed about sharp cheekbones, flushed with pleasure and a laugh so pure it could brighten his mood for weeks. He came to when Robards’s foot collided with his and he focused enough on the meeting to understand that the aurors had been tracking what they thought might be a loose dragon. Despite how interesting that might have been to him on a different day, the mention of the word dragon sent him flying back down the rabbit hole.

They took a break for lunch and once the other aurors left the meeting room, Robards turned to Harry with a disapproving frown. “Harry, what’s gotten into you? This debriefing is very important for your training as you will be the one doing it soon. You’ve always been so sharp, but today, you look like you’re about to float through the ceiling.”

Harry felt heat rise in his face as he stared steadily down at the folders on the table in front of him. “Sorry, sir. I, err, attempted at getting a life last night.” He said, refusing to look his boss in the eye.

Robards froze for a moment beside him before heavily placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder. Harry looked up at him then, feeling that it would be rude to continue to look at the table. There was a twinkle in the Head Auror’s eyes that made him want to bolt out of there, instantly regretting mentioning anything about last night at all.

“I see. Then how about you take lunch to work through it, so that you can clear your head for this afternoon’s meeting?” Robards said with a smile and a wink before leaving the meeting room.

Feeling slightly sick, Harry rushed out of the department and down the hall to the lift, dodging people going at a much more reasonable pace as he went. It wasn’t until he was in the Atrium that he even slowed to consider where he was going. Grimmauld wasn’t an option. He knew he’d either get lost in the past or just go in circles over last night there. He had absolutely no idea how to contact Malfoy and wasn’t even sure the git would respond if he found a way after this morning’s note. He didn’t know where Luna was staying while she was in town, otherwise he’d go to her for an explanation of what she was thinking. Going to Ron or Hermione about _Draco bloody Malfoy_ was out of the question. Ron would gag and Hermione would overly worry. There was really only one person he could think of to talk to about this and thankfully, she was off today if his mental calendar was still up to date.

           

He knocked on the door twice before she answered. She looked like she just crawled out of bed, pink flannel pajamas and hair in the shape of a bird’s nest he’d seen on the street below. She rubbed at her eyes and let out a yawn. “Harry, why are you here so early?” She asked in between yawns, picking at a small bit of sleep in the corner of her eye.

Harry grinned and gave her forehead a gentle flick. “It’s noon, Gin. What time did you go to bed last night?”

Ginny grumbled something that sounded like “four” before moving aside to let him pass into her flat. She gestured loosely to the small, round table in between her bookshelves and couch before stepping into her small kitchen and opening her fridge. “Do you want anything?” She asked as he took a seat.

“Whatever you’re having is good, thanks.” She nodded and proceeded to make them both bowls of cereal, which, he knew from the time they’d lived together, was the extent of her cooking skills. She’d never taken the time to learn anything household related from her mother because she found it boring. It was one of the few things that actually worked in their relationship because after years of cooking in the Dursley household, he found it quite calming.

Ginny placed a bowl in front of him before sinking into the seat across from him and starting on her breakfast. He waited for her to swallow a couple of bites before taking a bite of his own and saying in little more than a whisper, “I went on Luna’s blind date last night.”

Her eyes grew bright at that and she swallowed hurriedly in order to shoot him a blinding grin. “Oh! Harry, that’s great! How was it? _Who_ was it?”

Harry scratched the back of his neck, heat rising in his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He couldn’t meet her eyes as he said, “We, err, were _very_ attracted to each other.”

Ginny let out a gasp and her grin grew devilish in nature. “Harry! You _never_ shag on the first date. Merlin’s balls, it took you a year before you would have sex with me. What was it about this dashing date of yours?”

Harry frowned and crossed his arms. “That’s not fair. I’ve shagged plenty of people I’d just met.”

Ginny sighed and rolled her eyes. “One night stands don’t count and you know it. This was a _date_. Like full on dinner at a fancy restaurant date.”

Harry grumbled to himself and went back to eating his cereal. A full two minutes of silence passed while they ate before Harry had the courage to continue their conversation. He’d come here looking for advice after all. “The problem is I’m not completely sure it wasn’t a one-night stand to him.” He muttered without looking up.

“Him! Ha! I know a gender now.” She said triumphantly before seeming to take in the rest of his words. “What makes you say that? Did something happen besides the obvious?”

Harry sighed and sat back in his chair, frowning at his bowl. “I don’t know. We didn’t do much talking at the restaurant, but I suppose that makes sense given all that’s happened. It was just really awkward, but he was hot so I took a chance. It was fine. He even spent the night. But then he left a note this morning that basically told me to get lost and now it’s like sixth year all over again in my head.”

“Sixth year?” Ginny gasped and when Harry looked up at her, he could see the gears whirling behind her eyes. He bit his lip and grimaced when he saw her eyes widen in realization. She looked at him hard then as if trying to dissect him with her brain. She must have seen something, because she sat back with a smug expression and a sharp giggle.

“What?” He said defensively, crossing his arms.

“Oh, this is rich. Are you saying that it’s finally happened? You’ve finally shagged Draco Stick-Up-My-Arse Malfoy?”

Blood rushed into Harry’s face and he stood up with his empty bowl, taking it over to the sink so that he wouldn’t have to look her in the face. Going to Ginny for this was turning out to be a terrible idea. “What do you mean ‘finally’?” He said, his back still to her.

Ginny full on laughed at him then. “You aren’t denying it! You shagged Malfoy. Oh, I could kiss Luna for setting this up.” Ignoring her guffaws, he returned to the table and repeated his question. She just shook her head and giggled some more. “Harry, the whole school thought you were doing it with him, especially during your sixth year when you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. It’s one of the main reasons I moved on from you. It was a real shocker to learn you liked me, believe me.”

Harry sunk further into his chair and buried his head in his arms on the table. He could feel how red his face was. He wished he could just melt into the wood finish and cease to exist. This was a terrible mistake. Instead of doing the smart thing and running away from this conversation, he decided to dig his own grave a bit more and lifted his head to face her, eyes defiant. “Yeah, I shagged Malfoy, okay? That’s not the issue here. I want to know what I should do now.”

That put a full stop to Ginny’s incessant laughter. Her grin fell and she looked truly puzzled as she took in his miserable state. After a while, she let out a sigh and reached over to ruffle his hair. “Do you like him?”

He pulled up short and frowned, thinking of the man in question. He’d been thinking about him all day and though some of those thoughts were about the sex, not a single one thought he was up to something or doing something wrong like he’d been obsessed with doing in school. No, he’d mostly been thinking about Malfoy’s laugh and how he gave as good as he got. When they’d forced themselves to try, their conversations had been stunted and awkward, but the bits that were loose felt right to him. He wanted more of that. He wanted to see where that could go. He missed having someone he could fight with on equal ground. No one else compared to Malfoy in that way.

“I-I’m not sure. I don’t hate him though.” He said noncommittally.

Ginny rolled her eyes and flicked his old scar. “You idiot. Just send the git a letter. If he doesn’t respond, he really doesn’t want anything to do with you. If he does, he’s interested no matter what the letter says. That’s just way it works with you two. You might not have been flirting with him in school on purpose, but he completely was, even if you didn’t see it.” She said and then went to the bookshelf to grab some parchment and a quill, both of which she placed in front of Harry. “I’ll even help you write it because I’m that much of a nice person.”

Harry huffed his annoyance at her smug attitude but accepted her help anyway. After all, Malfoy probably wouldn’t respond.


	6. Letters of Compatibility

            Writing a letter to a man that he’d never talked to besides the trading of insults was hard. By the time Harry’s lunch hour was over, they’d gone through several pieces of parchment and still had nothing more than the idiot’s last name. He’d gone back to work and spent much of the meeting thinking and writing bits of the letter on his notepad instead of paying attention. Apparently, he’d looked the part though because Robards was much happier with him at the end of the day. He practically ran back to Ginny’s and after discarding his auror robes on the back of a chair, they curled up on the couch and thought some more.

            After another couple of hours of frustrating thought, Ginny got up and grabbed some rum from a cupboard. Not even bothering with glasses, she took a swig from the bottle before passing it to Harry. “I changed my mind. I’m not _this_ nice of a person. Harry, are you sure you’re not just physically attracted to him? I mean, what do you really even know about Malfoy?” She sighed, sinking back down into the couch cushion and taking the bottle back from Harry after he took a swig.

            Harry’s head hit the back of the couch and he groaned. “All the things I know about him are from me stalking him in school.” He said, choosing to ignore the first question mostly because he wasn’t quite yet sure of the answer.

            Ginny nestled back into Harry’s side and picked up the latest attempt at a letter. She took another gulp of rum and said, “Let’s start there then. What stood out so much at school that you remember it a decade later?”

            Groaning, Harry took the alcohol from her and downed quite a bit before forcing himself to respond. “He has a sweet tooth. His mum used to send him these care packages filled with chocolate. He used to taunt me with it from across the hall.”

            “Okay. What else?” Ginny prompted, quill between her teeth.

            Harry sighed and looked up at the ceiling to better recall his childhood. “He’s a coward. He relied on his friends for everything and when he didn’t have them, he’d be lost. You’d think he’d look taller without them hulking over him, but he didn’t. He looked smaller, weaker. He talks a big game, but in the end, he’s lonely. Or he was. I don’t know, Ginny. What do you want me to say? That when I saw him crying, I thought he was a beautiful mess that I wanted to fix, but ended up almost killing? That when he’s losing at something he can’t boast his way out of, he bites his lip and grows smaller? That he talked a big game, but in reality, he was just as scared as I was? That he’s intelligent, maybe almost as much as Hermione if those buttons or that cabinet meant anything? That after years of hating each other, I literally have no idea who the person I hated really was? I stalked him for a year and all I learned was the way he drinks his coffee (two sugars and a dash of cream) and that his performance suffers under pressure?”

            He paused his tirade when he heard a quill rapidly scratching along a piece of parchment. “Uh, Ginny, what are you doing?” He asked, looking down at her to see that the parchment that only held Malfoy’s name before was now several inches long.

            “Wait a moment.” She muttered, scratching as fast as she can, only pausing to dip the quill into the inkwell on the table. Eventually, she finished and shoved the parchment under his nose before taking the rum back. She took a large pull from it before waving her hand at the letter. “Read it. Tell me what you think.”

            Frowning, Harry looked down at the letter and immediately went to grab the rum back, but Ginny was resolutely holding onto it. Sighing, he began to read what she’d written, what he’d said.

 

_Malfoy,_

_Last night was brilliant and I don’t just mean the sex. I mean the whole date. After so long of mutually hating each other, I thought it would be awkward and that would be it. And it was, but it was also so much more. I’ve never heard you laugh before and including everything that came after, that was the best moment of the night for me. It was a shame we didn’t stay for dessert. I know how much you like chocolate. We could’ve split a cake and fought over the last piece._

_It might have only been sex to you, and if that’s true, there’s no need to respond. To me, it was a chance to see the man that the cowardly boy that hid behind his friends grew up to be without them. I was impressed. You’re as intelligent as ever and you are forceful in a way that sends me reeling. Of course, after so long of trying to find the evil in the boy, one night is not enough to find the good in the man. Now that we’re no longer frightened boys, what would you say to grabbing a cuppa with me Saturday morning? Two sugars and a bit of cream, right?_

_Best,_

_Harry_

            “W-when did I mention his laugh?” Harry asked shakily, his eyes roaming over the words that were both his and not his.

            Ginny groaned and took another gulp of rum. “You went on and on about it two hours ago. If I didn’t know you so well, I would’ve checked you into Mungo’s then.”

            Harry blushed and read over the letter again. “Isn’t it a bit much? His ditch note was one line.”

            Ginny shook her head and shifted positions to where her back was against the arm of the couch and her feet were on Harry’s lap. “Like I said, I know you. It’s much better to scare him now with how much of a sap you are than to let him think you’re not one just to find out later on. If he can’t handle it, that’s his problem.”

            Harry grimaced and opened his mouth to complain, “Gin-”

            “Nuh-uh,” She cut him off, kicking him in the thigh. “You’re going to take a fresh piece of parchment, copy the letter in your own handwriting, and then get out of my flat. I need some me time after spending my entire day off thinking about you and Malfoy.”

            Relenting that she was right, Harry quickly copied the letter. He hugged her and thanked her several times before she unceremoniously kicked him out the door. He saw her take another swig of the near-empty rum bottle before the door shut in his face. Reluctantly, he apparated back to his house. Across the hall, he saw the crumpled-up note from this morning and sighing, he walked over and picked it up before heading down into the kitchen. He fixed himself a quick dinner, ate it, and then went to bed, setting both Malfoy’s note and his letter on his nightstand with his glasses before curling up on Malfoy’s side of the bed and falling asleep.

            His dreams were simple, easy at first. Normal dreams about things that only partially made sense in the waking world. It wasn’t long, however, before they took their usual turn and Harry was watching his friends die at his hand, his pale, long-fingered hand wrapped around a familiar wand made of elder. He laughed his high, cruel laugh as each green light took those he loved. Those that really died and those that Harry used to wake up every day needing confirmation that they really survived. Sirius, Ron, Fred, George, Lupin, Teddy, Tonks, Hermione, Dumbledore, Luna, Cedric, Neville, Dobby, Ginny. In the end, he was standing in the middle of a room filled with nothing but the lifeless bodies of his closest friends. Then he would turn and look down at himself, pleading with him at his feet. Ignoring the cries of his other body, he looked past it to see Malfoy’s corpse amongst the others.

            _“Do you want to join them, Harry?”_ He asked in a hiss of Parseltongue, crouching down to take his darker chin in his pale fingers. His green eyes met his red stare and the darker face trembled in his grasp. He cried out as the pale fingers of the other hand pressed against the lightning scar. _“Tell me what you want, Harry. Do you want it all to stop? I can give that to you.”_

 _“Yes!”_ Harry cried out in a hiss, tears streaming down his face. _“Make it stop!”_

            Voldemort’s thin lips smiled savagely as he lifted the elder wand to Harry’s forehead, right over the scar. _“As you wish.”_

            With a flash of green light, Harry jolted up in bed, sweat mixing with tears on his face. His throat felt raw and dry, and he knew he’d been screaming in his sleep again. He reached out for the glass of water he generally kept on his nightstand only to come up empty. He must have forgotten last night over the craziness of the past twenty-four hours. Harry threw the covers off him and ripped himself away from the sweat-soaked sheets. As he made his way down the stairs to the kitchen, he checked the color and shape of his hands. They were his and judging by the stubble he felt on his chin, he was himself and not somehow Voldemort come back from the dead. Still, he paused in front of a mirror hanging on the second floor and ran a hand through his unruly locks. There was not a hint of red in the green of his irises. He moved on.

            After chugging three glasses of water, he checked the time and groaned. It was nowhere near close to when he should be awake. Knowing that Robards had taken to warding the auror offices against Harry at night to keep him away after Harry tried the first couple of nightmare-fueled nights, he put the kettle on and went to the drawing room to grab a book. He settled back at the kitchen table with his feet up and attempted to focus. By the time the kettle whistled, Harry had seen more flashes of green than letters on the first page of the book. Groaning, he threw the book on the table and got up to pour the tea. He glanced longingly at his alcohol cabinet but ultimately shook his head and left the room before he could change his mind. One trip to St. Mungo’s from alcohol poisoning was more than enough.

            He went up the stairs and back into the drawing room, settling down on the floor next to the dark fireplace. Harry took a sip of his tea and looked out at the floor in front of him, remembering seeing the dead bodies of the Weasley family popping in and out of existence in front of a sobbing Mrs. Weasley. Boggarts had been a joke in third year under Lupin’s instruction. Spiders, Snape, mummies, and the like. All simple fears that normal thirteen-year-olds had. Fears that were, for the most part, irrational. Then the war came and changed all that. Irrational fears like losing your loved ones were abruptly rational. The war might be over now, but to him, the fear and the guilt that derived from it would never go away with a simple “riddikulus”, not when Harry still saw Voldemort every time he looked in the mirror.

            Harry tore his eyes away from the imaginary bodies on the floor and glanced up at the ceiling, thinking of the letter on his nightstand above. Ginny did great, there was no denying that. Becoming a journalist would definitely suit her. The thing was, the letter she wrote for him made it seem like he wanted something more, something someone whole would want. She and everyone else around him wanted him to be the “sap”, as she put it, that he couldn’t quite remember ever being. In truth, he had no idea what he wanted. He was an auror because that’s what pre-War him wanted. He dated Ginny at first too because of the same reason. After it all ended, he’d been so focused on picking up the pieces of his literal past life that he failed to see that that version of him never thought he had a future. After all, who was Harry Potter without Tom Riddle?

            Letting out a hiss of frustration, Harry stood up and left the room, leaving behind the tea on the floor to be picked up later. He went up another flight of stairs and into the bathroom. A quick shower and change later and Harry found himself walking up Diagon Alley as the sun crested the horizon. As he entered the Owl Post and saw a tired little witch with short hair that flicked through the rainbow every few seconds, his grasp on the envelope in his hand tightened. She was poring through a magazine on the counter, her rainbow eyebrows pinched together in concentration. Most of the page she was on was taken up by a rectangle with three colors: pink, yellow, and light blue. He stepped closer out of curiosity to get a better look at the headline and the rectangle rearranged itself to have three different colors: deep pink, purple, and dark blue. The headline read: _What’s your flag?_

            Understanding dawning, he stepped out of range of the spell on the page, but the damage had been done. The assistant had looked up at the change in the colors on the flag and seen him. Her eyes widened as she took him in and they made the usual flick to his forehead before she smiled and said, “’Morning Mr. Potter. What can I do for you today?”

            Taking in a deep breath, he couldn’t help but grimace as he said, “Err, I’d like to mail a letter.”

            “Sure thing. Local or international?”

            “Uh…local, Wiltshire…I think.”

            “That’ll be ten sickles, Mr. Potter.” She said good-naturedly, looking far more chipper than she had when he walked in.

            He passed her the coins and she took the time to put them away in her register before disappearing into the owlery behind her. She came back with a tiny elf owl and helped him attached his hastily written letter to its leg. She then gave the owl a treat before setting it loose. They watched it disappear before she turned back to him. “Can I do anything else for you this morning, Mr. Potter?” He shook his head. “Well then, thank you for your business.” He responded in kind and then left the post office, feeling only slight regret about what he just did. Not wanting to think on it for too much longer, he apparated to work and started his day.

            In truth, Harry hadn’t expected a fast response. Really, he was actually half-expecting for there to be no response at all. Still, he couldn’t help but chew on his lip during meetings and glance over his shoulder as he walked through the halls. It was Friday, so Robards forced him out of the office at noon for lunch. As if on auto pilot, he ate with Hermione and let her do most of the talking. She was busy at work, as usual. Everyone always seemed to need her for something. Ron and he were prepared for her to announce her candidacy for Minister any day now, but she always shot that down, saying she could get far more done away from politics. If she noticed that he was only half-there, she didn’t say anything. The only signs she gave to the contrary were in her worried looks and half-baked attempts at getting him to respond with more than a few words at a time. He knew he was scaring her again, but he couldn’t be bothered to care.

            Harry was pacing in his kitchen around midnight, having given up on sleep hours ago, when tapping could finally be heard on his window. Barely able to believe his luck, he ran to let the bird in. It was not the same one from the Owl Post. It was a regal and proud eagle owl. Amber eyes stared at him from underneath black tuffs that angled down over the eyes like severe eyebrows. He moved to touch it, but it snapped at the air in front his fingers before he could. “Well, what do you have for me then?” He asked it, feeling rather offended by its haughty attitude.

            The owl glared at him before lifting its left leg and holding it out to him. Harry removed the letter, careful to not touch the bird in any way while doing so. Once it was all the way off, the owl turned, spread its wings, and flew straight out the window from which it came. The envelope was the same one he sent this morning, just slightly rumpled from being opened and then magically resealed. He carefully ripped it open and pulled out the same piece of parchment that he’d put inside in his rush to get out the door this morning. On it was his simple one-line request for tea and to his disappointment, Malfoy’s one-word response in the negative. He looked up at the alcohol cabinet again and this time didn’t even try to talk himself out of it.


	7. Seeking Some Space with You

Harry was halfway through his second bottle of brandy when the doorbell rang. Given that it is about two in the morning and he’s had a lot to drink, this rightfully scared the daylights out of him. He was on the floor before the knocking started, his drink somehow secure on the table instead of spilled all over him. He struggled to pull himself up, relying mostly on the couch and then the wall for support as he made his way out of the drawing room.

The knocking was adamant until he made it down to the entrance hall, holding on to the railing for dear life the entire way down. It slowed to a worrying stop by the time he reached the door. He attempted to look through the peephole to see who it was, but he was having a hard time focusing on it, the whole room just seemed to be spinning. Closing his eyes, he struggled to right his world before opening them and the door.

“Malfoy?” He asked too loudly upon seeing the back of a familiar blond head.

Malfoy turned back around, his hands in the pockets of his black cloak. From what Harry could make out in the dim light of his front step, Malfoy looked about to cry. His usually neat hair was loose with visible signs of multiple accounts of frustrated fingers running through it. His face was red and splotchy, eyes watery but resolutely holding back tears. His teeth worried his bottom lip enough that it was slightly bleeding. His stance was hunched in on himself as if he just wanted to disappear.

“Potter,” He whispered in relief and Harry felt his heart quicken at the sound of his name. “I know it’s late, but is there a chance that offer for a cuppa is still good?”

At that, Harry had to let his focus on Malfoy drop so he could shift it to holding himself up by the door. _Focus, Harry. You have to answer him._ He thought to himself, but his world was moving at the wrong angle and all he managed to do was take a wobbly step backwards. Functioning was proving to be more difficult than usual.

“Potter?” Malfoy asked and Harry managed to hold out a finger to him in a gesture to wait.

He could do this. Just invite him inside. It wouldn’t be so bad. Right? His foggy brain provided him with the two most recent rejections he’d received. Shaking his head, he decided to the hell with it all and said, “Is brandy alright?”

Malfoy gave a sigh and walked back up the front steps. “Brandy would be perfect.”

He stopped on the front step and waited for Harry to move out of the way of the door, but now that he was within touching range, Harry couldn't help drinking in the sight of him. Underneath the black cloak, he wore tailored navy robes. Every inch of skin up to his chin was covered and really, that was a shame, because his skin was like porcelain: nearly white and oh-so smooth. His sensibilities drowned in alcohol, he reached up and pushed a stray strand of white-blond hair away from Malfoy's face.

A shiver ran through the taller man at his touch and Harry slowly pulled his hand back, a smile creasing the corner of his mouth. He stepped out of the way of the door, feeling lighter than he had all day. With something positive to focus on, he led the way back to the drawing room, only stumbling on the steps twice. He wandlessly summoned an extra glass from the kitchen and sat back on the couch to pour some brandy into it. When he looked up to hand the glass over, he could see Malfoy looking about the room. His eyes roamed over the half-empty tea cup on the floor and the empty bottle of brandy on the table before settling on Harry with a worried frown.

They stared at each other, as if daring the other to say something about the miserable state they were in. Harry pointedly held out the glass of brandy and eventually Malfoy gave in and took it, settling down in the armchair opposite the couch. After grabbing his own glass, Harry leaned back into the corner of the couch. They drank in silence, their eyes glancing at each other and then away when the other caught them looking. Their stand-off was uncomfortable, made worse so by the events of their last meeting. Harry was torn between jumping the man's bones and telling him to get out, but every time he caught those stormy greys, they looked closer to tears and Harry knew neither was a real option.

"Why are you here?" He finally asked in a whisper, eyes on his empty glass.

"Do I need a reason?"

Harry vehemently thought _Yes_ but said, "No, but you obviously have one."

When silence met that statement, Harry looked up to see Malfoy studying the Black family tree, his knuckles white against the glass. "I don't regret what I wrote the other day. I still think anything more between us than sex is doomed to fail. I just...needed some space and this was the only place I could think of to get that."

Harry frowned and set his glass down on the table, not feeling as if he needed it anymore now that his reason for drinking in the first place was here. This wasn't exactly the wildly romantic night Ginny had probably imagined for him. At this point, Harry wasn't sure what he'd wanted from Malfoy, but it wasn't this. Sure, the concept of a purely-sexual relationship was tempting, but Ginny was at least partially right in calling him a sap. Meaningless sex only worked for him if there wasn't a real connection between the two parties, and Malfoy might not feel anything but Harry sure felt a lot more than nothing.

He stood up and patted imaginary dust off of himself. The other man looked up at him and their eyes met. Harry was the first to pull away this time. "It's a big house, plenty of space. Take any bedroom you want. But Malfoy?" He said, walking towards the door. He paused just outside the hallway until he heard a tentative "yes?" from behind him. "In the morning, get lost."

His feet were able to take him about three feet outside of door's view before crashing a shoulder against the wall. He waited for some sort of response, anything at all, but when nothing came, he pushed himself off the wall and went up to his bedroom, feeling heavier with every step. He stripped off his clothes and pulled on a decently clean pair of pajama pants. Mourning his drunken stupor, he cast a silencing charm around the room. He could feel the bad dreams coming and didn't want there to be any chance of Malfoy pitying him for screaming in his sleep.

Harry lay in bed for a long time, drifting in and out of sleep. His dreams were too loud, filled with the cries of battle. His reality was too quiet, lacking even the creak of a floorboard. He tossed and turned but couldn't make himself fully comfortable. His bed just felt wrong, tainted somehow. Eventually, he gave up and went to get a glass of water, the need to be moving outweighing his knowledge of _aquamenti_. When he passed by the drawing room, he poked his head in and found Malfoy curled up on the couch, asleep.

In the kitchen, he poured himself a glass of water and settled down at the table. Picking up the book he'd left earlier, he began to read. He got through the first five pages before he had to stop and look at the cover. Considering this was Grimmauld Place, he should've known better than to just grab a random book off a shelf. Most of the books in the place were either given to him by Hermione or leftover from the Blacks. This happened to be one of the latter as it detailed the grim life of a Black that spent years trying to develop a "cure" for muggleborns and then (Harry flipped to the end) ended up killing himself when his son married a muggle.

Deciding that was enough reading for one night, he put the book back down, made a mental note to burn it, and stood up. He was nearly in the hallway when Malfoy started screaming. Despite the lack of sleep, Harry's auror instincts kicked in. He went through a mental checklist. Wand? In his pocket. He took it out and cast _lumos_. Wards? Still working, no unauthorized magical entries. Front door? Locked, windows shut. There should be no intruder. Still, he cast a silencing charm on his feet so that he wouldn't make any noise going up the stairs. Malfoy was still screaming.

As fast as he could, he ran up the single flight of stairs and into the drawing room. First securing that there was no other magical signature in the room besides him and the sleeping blond, he then turned to the couch. If he had looked peaceful in sleep before, he definitely didn't look it now. Malfoy was thrashing back and forth, somehow managing to not fall off the small space. Sweat clung to his face and clothes, leaving him drenched. His mouth was open, screaming words like "no", "stop", and "please" at an invisible enemy.

Satisfied that the house was not being attacked, Harry dropped his wand on the coffee table and fell to his knees beside the couch. Slowly, he reached out and put pressure on Malfoy's chest with one hand and ran his fingers through sweaty blond strands with the other. "Malfoy....Draco, wake up. It's just a dream. It's over. It's just a memory." He said, repeating himself until Malfoy quieted down and slowly opened his eyes.

"Potter? Why are you-where is he?" Malfoy asked, his eyes widening as a panic Harry didn't understand settled in. "Where is he?" He repeated, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the couch. He looked around and when he seemed to figure out where he was, he calmed down and looked down at his hands.

"Who are you looking for?" Harry asked cautiously, his own mind jumping to Voldemort.

Malfoy shook his head, sticky blond hair falling in his face. "No-no one. I apologize for waking you. I should...." He paused and look down at Harry, who, thanks to Malfoy's shift in position, was now kneeling between his knees. Despite feeling embarrassed about the situation himself, Harry relished in the bit of pink that appeared along Malfoy's cheekbones. He found himself wishing he could make that blush spread to other places. "I should go."

"Why?" Harry asked in barely above a whisper, his thumb moving to rub circles on the blond's knee.

"It must be nearly morning by now. You said to leave in the morning." Malfoy murmured, turning his face away to try and hide his growing blush.

Harry smirked and shifted his movements a little further up the leg. "I'm positive what I actually said was for you to get lost, but that's not what I meant. Why are you so certain _this_ is doomed to fail?" He said, squeezing the inside of Malfoy's thigh and feeling verified by the hitch in his breathing that followed.

"Because we're us." Harry raised an eyebrow and made a noncommittal noise at that, his left hand moving to join his right in rubbing Malfoy's inner thighs. "What do you want me to say, Potter? You're a bloody saint and I...I'm a Death Eater."

Harry rolled his eyes and got up, moving to sit in Malfoy's lap, straddling his legs. He pushed his face his way with his hand so that they had to look at each other. "I still don't see the problem. Are you worried about the press? We've both dealt with worse."

Malfoy shook his head. "No, I don't care about _them_. If he knows and we break up. If he gets used to having you around and then you're gone. I don't want to disappoint him. He's going through enough right now because of me." He said, his voice cracking.

"Hey, hey, hey." Harry consoled, caressing Malfoy's cheek. "Who are you so worried about disappointing?"

Malfoy opened his mouth, closed it, and then turned his face away. "No. I need to go. I've been gone too long and this thing between us can't happen again."

Harry sighed and rolled off of Malfoy to slouch against the other side of the couch. "I don't get you, Malfoy. I really don't. Our date goes bloody fantastic but somehow that's not good enough for you. You send me two notes basically telling me to get lost. Then you show up here in the middle of the night expecting what, a shoulder to cry on? But you refuse to give more than cryptic explanations and now you're going to up and leave again? Please tell me how this makes sense to you because it sure as hell doesn't to me."

A sniff that sounded dangerously close to a sob came from Malfoy's still turned face. Against his better judgment, Harry shifted closer and reached out, squeezing the navy-clad shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. A silent sob reverberated through his entire torso and then he visibly gave up. Long arms wrapped around his chest and a sharp face buried into his shoulder. Harry struggled to take on the sudden weight, but he hadn't been in a stable position before so he ended up falling backwards until his back hit the couch cushions. He gripped onto the back of Malfoy's robes and waited as his shoulder grew wet with tears.

It wasn't comfortable. His hips were turned towards the edge of the couch, his legs mostly hanging off. His bones shrieked for him to change position but he didn't think moving was the best idea right now. Instead, he focused on holding tightly to the man that was breaking down in his arms. He had no idea what brought this on and didn't know if he would ever get an answer, but right now, he was needed and that was all that mattered. It had been so long since someone needed him to be there for them. He'd almost forgotten how good it felt.

He didn't know how long they lay there while Malfoy cried, but it was long enough that they grew comfortable with the quiet of the drawing room, the feel of it just being the two of them. His sobs eventually died down but he didn't move, didn't make some excuse to leave. He just stayed there in Harry's arms and for that, Harry was grateful. He selfishly wanted this to last for as long as he could, because he knew that if Malfoy left again, if he told him no one more time, Harry would be forced to move on. He wouldn't chase after someone that didn't want to be caught. He wasn't some villain that needed to be brought to justice, not anymore.

Despite the pain in his hip, he was almost asleep when the floo roared to life, a face only vaguely familiar appearing in its flames. Malfoy didn't move, the only sign that he was still awake was in the slight pain made by his nails against Harry's bare back. Harry looked over and tried to focus on the fireplace but he couldn't for the life of him put a name to that face. Who was she? Whoever she was, she looked panicked.

"Draco? Are you there? Shit. Draco! We need you!" She yelled out into the room. Her field of vision must not extend to the couch.

Upon hearing the voice, Malfoy bolted up, his eyes red and puffy but entirely awake. In his rush to get off the couch, he tripped over Harry's legs and smacked his forehead against the coffee table. "Whoa. Are you alright?" Harry asked, scrambling after the blond who had shaken off the hit and was now crawling towards the floo.

Malfoy ignored him and instead focused on the woman in the fire. "What is it? Is he okay?" He asked, his tone all worry and panic. He looked about ready to jump into the fire.

"He's sick. I think it's the flu. We're taking him to St. Mungo's, but I wanted to let you know first so you could be there." She explained, slightly calmer now that she could see Malfoy but worry lines were still evident around her eyes.

"Shit. I knew he was out in the rain too much earlier. Shit. Shit. Shit! You can't take him there. Fuck. You know what they'll say when they know who he is." He hissed out, clawing the top of his head in frustration.

"Draco, I know, but he needs a proper healer. I-I can say he's my nephew or something, but if I do that, you can't show up. He needs you."

"Fuck, Pans. I-I don't know what to do. He's never gotten sick before." Malfoy whispered, his expression hopeless.

At that, Harry finally recognized the woman as Pansy Parkinson. He'd only paid her sparing attention at school and hadn't seen her since so it made sense that he hadn't known her on sight. He scooted a bit closer to where he was in view of the fireplace and decided that he was tired of being in the dark. "Err, who's sick?"

Parkinson's eyes immediately lit up, but Malfoy let out a growl. "No, Pans."

She whined in protest. "But it would solve everything. They wouldn't be able to say no to-"

"I said no, Pansy. I won't do that. I'll find another way."

"So you aren't going to even ask him?"

"No."

"Fine, I'll do it."

"Pans-!"

"Harry, dear, would you be so kind as to join Draco and me at St. Mungo's so that the nasty healers will treat Scorpius with basic human decency?" Parkinson asked him, eyelashes fluttering in expectation.

Confused and slightly rattled by this exchange, Harry could only get out in response, "Who's Scorpius?"

To this, Malfoy sighed in defeat, met his eyes, and said, "My son."


End file.
